


Inch by Inch, Yard by Yard

by fleurlb



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:57:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8595367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurlb/pseuds/fleurlb
Summary: A look at Tim's post-high school life, starts approximately three years after the show's end.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redbells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbells/gifts).



> Thank you for the opportunity to return to one of my favorite worlds in all of fandom. Hope you enjoy it!

Tim's shoulder ached from carrying kegs and crates of liquor around Buddy's all night. He would swear that the bar somehow tripled in size at the end of the evening, like a hallway in a nightmare. He was looking forward to having the pancake special at the all-night diner on Route 153 and then sleeping all day.

The diner was quiet, as usual, and he settled into his customary corner booth. A smile and wink at his favorite waitress was all it took to get his order in motion. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes. He let his thoughts drift and felt himself letting go of all the shit he'd had to put up with during his shift. Dealing with drunks all night for not much more than minimum wage was exhausting, even though he joked to Billy that he'd had plenty of experience with Walt and at least it was novel to actually get paid for his trouble. 

The bell on the door rang, and he opened his eyes. The new arrival entered tentatively, as though she wasn't quite sure that the place was open or that she had any right to be there. Her hair was shorter, but her graceful and purposeful walk was still the same. 

“Taylor, what bring you back here?” he asked, causing her to smile and sit down across from him.

“I was in Austin for work and I couldn't sleep, so I decided to drive up and visit Grandma Saracen. Just killing time now until a decent hour.”

“How's she doing? I haven't seen her around in months.”

“She's in a nursing home. She still has a few good days, but mostly, she's not fully there anymore.” Julie looked down at her hands.

“That sounds tough. How's Matty?” Tim leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the booth.

“I don't know. You'd have to ask him. We broke up about two years ago, just a couple of weeks before the wedding. It was a disaster. Just like my parents predicted,” she replied, rolling her eyes then looking out the window.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know.”

“It's fine, ancient history, at this point.” Julie shifted in her seat uncomfortably, and they were saved from further awkwardness by the arrival of the waitress. Julie ordered coffee and a short stack of pancakes.

“So, what kind of work brings you to Austin?” asked Tim, wishing that he kept up better. Sometimes, it felt like everyone had left him behind. 

“I'm a reporter for the AP wire service. I was sent down to cover the emergency legislative session.”

Tim nodded like he understood and hoped that she wouldn't explain more about it. He was afraid that any boring government stuff might put him to sleep, but he didn't want to say that. 

“What about you? Are you still working at Buddy's?” 

Tim blinked, surprised that she knew, but then he realized that she must still talk to Tyra and that Tyra must talk to Mindy, because she sure never talked to him. She said it was just “easier for both of us”, but he definitely didn't feel like it was easier for him. 

“Yeah, I'm still at Buddy's, going on three years now.”

“Do you like it?”

He breathed out a long sigh. “To be honest, not really.” 

The waitress saved him once again by bringing their food, and he hoped that the interruption would completely change the subject. 

“What don't you like about it?” asked Julie as she poured syrup on her pancakes. 

“The drunks. The hours. The boss. It's just the same shit, different day, every day.” He cut his pancakes as he spoke and was surprised by the way the words tumbled out his mouth. 

“When you were in high school, what did you expect life now would be like?” 

Tim smiled, remembering the party at the lake. “I thought Jay Six could pay me to be a caretaker of a hunting lodge. Pretty dumb, now that I think about, knowing how everything turned out.”

“What did you like about the idea of being a caretaker?”

“Getting to hang out with Six, be helpful to him, being outside a lot without a schedule or a boss. Everything, really, I guess. Who wouldn't rather look after a hunting lodge than work in a crappy bar?” Tim shrugged and shoveled in a mouthful of pancakes. 

“That's a tough one. But I think I'd pick the crappy bar. Hunting creeps me out.”

“Well, maybe you could be in charge of a nature reserve instead.”

Julie laughed, and her smile lit up her face. “That would be much more my speed, although the lodge would have to have indoor plumbing. It couldn't be one of those rustic places.”

Tim nodded. They ate in silence for a few companionable moments. 

“Did you ever think about figuring out how to buy a hunting ranch yourself?”

“No,” replied Tim, his small smile suggesting that she'd just asked him to do advanced calculus. “They cost a lot. Without an NFL salary, there's no way I'm going to be able to buy a hunting ranch.”

“Maybe you should start buying property,”said Julie. 

“What do you mean? Like to flip it?”

“No, buy cheap land parcels that would be good for a hunting lodge, and then you could build the lodge and stock the land later, when you're ready. Land is pretty cheap right now in a lot of places, because not everywhere has fully recovered from the financial collapse.”

“I don't know about that,” said Tim as the reasons not to piled up in his brain, chief among them that he wasn't exactly rolling in cash.

“Have you ever played Monopoly?” 

“Is that the boring one where you build houses and hotels?” But he knew instantly that it was. He had the memory of raised voices and the slam of a fist on the table, then handful of red hotels and a tiny silver dog falling down the air conditioning vent, where for years, they'd rattle every time the AC kicked on. 

Julie nodded. 

“Maybe once or twice. Our set was missing too many pieces,” he said.

“When the game starts, you just buy up whatever spaces you can, and then worry about what to do with them later.”

“But it's not like I'm starting this game with a pile of money.”

“No, but it's also not like you're unable to earn money,” said Julie.

Tim's laugh was short and wry. “The only things I know that make big chunks of cash are illegal, and I am not going down that road again.”

“Tyra told me that you considered moving to Alaska. Why not just get some seasonal work in Alaska? Maybe on a fishing boat?” 

“What, like the Deadliest Catch?” His tone suggested that Julie has just recommended that he take a weekend trip to the moon. 

“Yeah, why not? You're strong, tough, and stubborn as hell. If anyone can do that work, it would be you,” said Julie.

Tim looked up from his pancakes to check how serious she was. She held his gaze without smirking or laughing, and her enthusiasm and gentle pressure reminded him of Mrs. Coach. A warm, surprising feeling spread through him, but he reminded himself that she might just be being polite. But for a few minutes, he let himself feel like anything was possible.

\--//--  
A few days later, Tim was getting ready for work when his phone rang. He didn't recognize the number and was about to let it go when he decided to answer it.

“Tim Riggins, it's Coach Taylor.” His voice reminded Tim of hard hits, hot sun, and good plays. He reckoned he hadn't talked to Coach in at least three years.

“Hello, sir.” He found himself sitting up that little bit straighter.

“No need for the sir, Tim. You're an adult now. We're just a couple of adults having a friendly chat.”

Tim smiled. “Okay then. How are things in Philadelphia?”

“They're good. Tami loves her job, Gracie is enjoying school. The weather is for the birds though. It's either freezing or boiling, and somedays, it can't decide which it wants to do.” 

Tim wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he said nothing.

“Listen, Julie tells me she ran into you at a diner. I understand that she gave you some advice.”

“Yes sir, I mean, yes, Coach. She did.”

“Well, I'm here to give you a bit more advice. Julie's a lot like her mother, although she's not right all the time, not yet, but she's right this time. You need something, Tim, something to belong to, something to work toward. Might be different, doing it on your own, and hell, it's going to be damn hard, but the worthwhile things always are.”

“Thank you, Coach.”

“Don't thank me, son, just give it a go, see what happens. Take it an inch at a time, and pretty soon, you'll be talking about real yards. And you have my number now, so don't be a stranger.”

Tim exchanged goodbyes with Coach Taylor without even thinking to ask how he'd gotten the number. He felt like the time that he and Billy had climbed up the high dive and just as he'd tried to chicken out, Billy had given him a hard push. The fall through the air seemed to last forever, and he'd dreaded hitting the water, but he'd surfaced. He'd been just fine. The hardest part had been standing on the board trying to jump.

\---//---

No one believed him a few months later when he said he was going to Alaska to work on a crab boat. Billy flat-out laughed at him whenever the subject came up, which Tim made sure was not often. But quietly, he made his plans and a week before he was due in Dutch Harbor, he handed his apron to Buddy one final time.

The work was hard, harder than sweating on a football field under a blistering sun, harder than walking into prison the first day, harder than watching Tyra walk out of his life. He ached in muscles he didn't even know he had and thought he might never stop puking. But he just kept on, putting one foot in front of the other and letting his mind go blank as he completed rote tasks with the efficiency and personality of a robot. 

He found he enjoyed the unpredictability, the fresh air, and the company of other guys. It was the closest feeling that he could get to being on a team. He had the back of every guy out there, and they had his. It felt good, even if the damn seasickness was a curse. And getting paid for it, and paid well, was icing. 

He fell in with a good crew and kept getting asked back, working his way up over a period of years so that his share grew, and he lucked into a few good catches. After a few years, he had managed to buy a few hundred acres within 30 miles of Dillon. Not great grazing land, but it had decent enough cover for quails and a water source that meant ducks and deer were also a possibility. 

But he just wasn't sure what happened next. He was so unsure, that he hadn't even told Billy about his purchases. Billy had finally stopped laughing at him about crab fishing, and he sure didn't want to give his brother a new reason to laugh.

Tim had gotten to the point in his life where he could spend two solid weeks on a fishing boat but still hated to get into an airplane. It felt like a climbing into a metal tube of death, and he just couldn't stand to have the curved walls looming over him. So he drove to and from Alaska, taking his time because he could. 

One of the guys on the boat had taught him about Google and Facebook and LinkedIn and how to find people on the internet. Which is how he'd come to learn that Landry worked as a code ninja, whatever that was, in a startup in Oakland. So Tim planned his route back to swing through Oakland to talk to the smartest guy he'd ever known.

After spending a rough night in a Motel 6 that had a cricket infestation, Tim drove into Oakland and parked in a lot near Landry's office. He feared that the parking lot might cost more than the motel and kind of wished he'd just slept in his truck. 

Tim went into the warehouse building that housed the company where Landry worked and was temporarily flummoxed by the feeling that he'd walked into an ancient video game arcade. The lobby had 12 classic arcade games, a skeeball, and an air hockey table. He could just about see what looked like it might be a reception desk, tucked into a dark corner.

“Can I help you?” asked a bored receptionist who barely looked up from her computer screen. 

“I'm looking for Landry Clarke, ma'am,” said Tim, beginning to feel like he'd made a mistake.

“Ordinarily, you'd be out of luck looking for a coder at this hour of the morning, but we had a deploy last night, so he's still around. You can go on back – he's in the Batcave.” She nodded her head toward a dimly lit hallway to the left. 

Tim blinked, feeling like he'd only understood about half of what she'd said. But she didn't look up again, so he wandered back in the direction she'd indicated. The Batcave turned out to be a small room that was full of huge computers. 

Tim opened the door and stepped in, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. The room was 30 degrees colder than the lobby, and Tim wasn't keen on how crowded and dark it was.

He heard the roll of wheels on the floor and looked up to see Landry zip around the corner on a slick black office chair. 

“I hope you've got more Red Bull. This deploy just about killed me,” he said and then stopped, his mouth comically hanging open.

“No Red Bull. We can go get some, if you want.” 

Landry stood up. “Tim Riggins! Just about the last person that I ever expected to walk through the door of the Batcave. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Nothing, really, I was just passing by. Thought we could catch up.”

“Tyra told me that you were living in Alaska. I couldn't believe it.” 

_Tyra. Did that girl talk to everyone but him?_ Tim shook his head. “Nah, I only work there, maybe a month or two a year. I still live in Dillon. Built a house on a some land outside of town. It's not much, but it's mine.”

Landry grinned. “All right, tell you what, give me ten minutes to finish up and we can go get some coffee. You can wait here or in the lobby. Tasha isn't much of a conversationalist, but you're welcome to play the arcade games.”

“Lobby it is,” said Tim. 

\---//---

Landry left Tim in the lobby long enough that he was able to rack up over 700,000 points on skeeball. When he finally arrived, Tim got the apologetic tone but didn't understand a single word of the apology.

“No worries,” he said as he followed Landry up four flights of stairs to a cafeteria that had outdoor and indoor seating. 

“The coffee's not great, but it's free,” said Landry. 

“Yeah, I know how that goes,” replied Tim, thinking of all the bitter coffee he'd had in his years of crab fishing. “There might be bad coffee, but there's no such thing as bad caffiene.”

“Exactly,” agreed Landry as he filled two large mugs and handed one to Tim. He grabbed some creamers and sugar packets, then walked outside. They sat down at a funky plastic picnic table in the corner. 

Tim sipped his coffee and was surprised by the rich, nutty flavor. He'd been expecting burnt brew, and the difference reminded him that Landry really was living in a different world. 

“So, to what do I owe this pleasure? I haven't seen you in what...six? Seven years?”

“I was passing through on my way home from fishing season and was hoping you might be able to help me out.”

“Uh-huh,” said Landry as he leaned back and looked at Tim skeptically. “Go on.”

“Say I wanted to start a hunting lodge and I already had the property. Where would I start?”

Landry smiled. “I have no idea. What did you think was going to happen, that you'd show up here and I'd somehow give you all the answers?”

“You're right. I'm sorry to bother you.” Tim stood up without looking at Landry and walked back toward the doors, hoping he could find his way out of the building without embarrassing himself.

“Riggins. Wait. Sit back down. That maybe sounded meaner than I thought.”

Tim turned around and watched Landry rub his eyes and then run a hand through his hair. “C'mon back. Sit down. I haven't slept in 26 hours.”

“I know how that goes.” Tim sat back down and took another sip of his coffee. 

“And I really don't know. I guess you're going to need a business plan if you're going to borrow or raise money. You'll need a lodge, so that's probably going to involve permits and building inspections. And you'll need animals, so there's probably licenses. And that's even before you get into the guns and liability and insurance. Why are you doing this?”

Tim shrugged one shoulder and looked away. He wasn't sure which answer was worse – that he was doing it because he'd drunkenly thought it was a good idea when he was a stupid teenager or because Julie Taylor had told him it was possible when he was stone-cold-sober and a still-stupid adult. 

Landry waved a hand. “Never mind, it doesn't matter why. You want to do it, you've bought how much land already?”

“A few hundred acres.”

“You should probably start with Google. You know how to use Google, right?”

Tim sighed. “Yes, Landry, I know how to use Google.”

“I'm appreciating the extent of your problem. It's hard to know where to start. And I know reading is not your favorite thing. The Chrome browser has a built-in screen-reader. That should help. It'll read the pages to you. And you should find a lawyer.”

Tim felt his heart sink. Permits. Lawyers. Insurance. It was sounding like an impossible pipe dream, way worse than he'd imagined. He was an idiot to have thought he could do this.

“Why do you look like I just drowned your puppy, Tim? You had to have known this wasn't going to be easy.”

“I knew. I just didn't know it was going to be impossible.”

Landry laughed. “It's nowhere near impossible. I've seen impossible. This is just not easy, maybe marginally difficult. But nothing worth doing is easy.”

“Yeah...I've heard that before,” said Tim, involuntarily sitting up a little straighter. 

“How do you win a football game?” 

“A yard at a time,” replied Tim, looking up to see Landry smiling at him.

“Exactly. So, and I know this is going to be hard for you, you go back and do your homework and get a list of questions for a lawyer. I know that some of the law schools have Ask a Lawyer events so that the students can get practice. You can start there.”

Tim nodded and felt an odd mix of exhilarated and exhausted. He might be able to pull this off after all.

\---//---

It took Tim nearly ten years more years and a metric-ton of hard work to open his hunting lodge, No Regrets Ranch. Five hundred acres of scrubby land, fully stocked with white-tailed deer, doves, turkeys, and quail. He also had a stocked lake and a couple of boats. 

The main living area of the lodge was open-plan and designed around a large stone fireplace. The ceiling was high and featured exposed oak beams. The furniture was all rustic and leather. The lodge had seven bedrooms and a separate caretaker's cottage. Tim had built much of the place with his own hands, and the satisfaction of having it finally finished was nearly overwhelming.

The lodge, the boat dock, and a few of the hides were fully wheelchair-accessible, which made No Regrets the only wheelchair accessible hunting lodge in Texas. Landry was impressed by the ranch's USP, and Tim's lawyer said he could probably get some ongoing contracts with veteran's organizations, but Tim had only wanted to make sure that Jason could come out whenever he wanted. 

Jason was the first person that Tim had told about the plan, and only after the construction permit and funds for building were already secured. Tim had expected him to laugh, but Jason had only said “Good for you, Rigs. You need something to keep you busy.” 

When the ranch was finally ready for customers, Tim hadn't wanted to have a grand opening, but Jason had pushed him on it. Jason flew out for it, and it seemed like half of Dillon had come along as well. Tim stood near the stone fireplace and looked out over the party, which looked a lot like a Panthers party from the good-old-days, except that Tim realized he was now even older than some of the guys that he'd considered old at the time.

He smiled to himself and had to admit that the party might look similar, but it was so different. No one was drunk enough to vomit. Billy wasn't carrying rally girls over his shoulder. The police were not going to get called by an angry neighbor. 

“Tim, congratulation, the place is amazing!” said Julie, reaching out to touch his arm. Tim involuntarily jumped and Julie laughed. 

“Sorry, I didn't see you come in. When did you get here?” 

“Just now. Trya told me last week about it, and I happened to be in Oklahoma City, covering a legislative session there.”

Tim shook his head. Tyra still talked to everyone but him. Some things would never change. 

“Oklahoma City? That's a pretty far drive. You really didn't have to come all this way.”

“I know I didn't have to, I wanted to.” Julie's smile was shy and uncertain. She held out a sparkly gift bag. “Here, it's a ranch-warming gift.” 

“Thank you...you really didn't have....okay, I am going to stop saying that.” He smiled at her, warm and wide, and peeked inside the bag. He was touched to find a framed photograph of him and Jason from a football practice. He could almost feel the sun from the day, feel the exhaustion in his bones from a brutal two-a-day. 

“I found the picture in one of my dad's boxes of stuff that my mom keeps threatening to throw out if he doesn't organize them, which he never will, but she never follows through on her threat.” Julie bit her lip and looked away. 

“Taylor, it's perfect. Thank you.” He wanted to tell her that she was the reason the ranch existed, but he couldn't think of a way to say it that didn't sound stupid. So instead, he pulled the photo out of the gift back and set it on the fireplace mantle, right in the center. 

/fin


End file.
